Take an early afternoon stroll down the southwest portion of Railroad Avenue any Tuesday during the summer months in Bellingham, and you’ll likely happen upon a secret source of joy capable of curing the worst mid-week mood.
Allow yourself to succumb to the cacophonous ringing of cowbells over other curious instruments, and you’ll find yourself in the outdoor beer garden of Boundary Bay Brewery experiencing two hours of entertainment from arguably one of the most enjoyable groups of musicians in town, Out of the Ashes.
From 3–5 p.m. every Tuesday, Out of the Ashes performs a free, open-to-the-public concert. Playing the summer months at Boundary Bay and the rest of the year at the Veterans of Foreign Wars post at 625 N. State St., the rotating cast of developmentally disabled musicians plays various rock ’n’ roll hits from the 1960s to the present day. Young families mingle over beers, toddlers swing and dance to the music, and nobody can muster a frown.
Started by Jon Dalgarn — then a vocational placement specialist in Arlington, Snohomish County — to give those with cognitive, emotional and physical disabilities a form of creative expression and community involvement, Out of the Ashes has entertained audiences since the early 2000s.
And, while on its surface the benefits to the band members seem apparent, the takeaway for the audience is more nuanced — and ultimately transformative to the community.
“It’s a connection and acceptance that happens,” Dalgarn said. “And when you do that — when you allow whatever it is that you’re not comfortable with in — you get better.”
But the effect of this onstage happiness on an individual can be more valuable. “I’ve seen [the band members] fixing a lot of broken folks … [by] watching and feeling what’s going on,” he said.
The band has also transformed its members. Marguerite Ryan, whose daughter Amy has played flute, harmonica and guitar with Out of the Ashes since 2010, credits the band with giving her daughter a form of expression that flows through her autism.
“It was like a dream come true,” Ryan said. “Music … was the only way we communicated with her. The first five years of her life, she didn’t speak, so we sang to her and just had to use different parts of her brain, and that’s how we communicated with her. So, music is always an important thing.”
The first time Marguerite took Amy to see Out of the Ashes, Dalgarn invited Amy up on the stage. Reticent at first, she quickly strode to the microphone and began singing a Sheryl Crow song. “Jon was just standing there,” Marguerite said. “He didn’t know the music!”
“For me, it feels like a roomful of genuine rock stars,” said Naaman Hinton, who has played harmonica with the band for three years. “Everybody’s passionate about their instrument … It’s just so beautiful … to be part of a rock star group.”
Stephanie Pratt, friend and care provider for Steven Jacobson —whose cowbell prowess draws in passersby — has seen many improvements during his 12 years of involvement. “(He’s) way more confident,” she said, “and has way more freedom to be who he is.”
Amid the rotating cast of bandmates, a core of three members exists. Dalgarn leads the program on guitar and vocals, while Jazz Project founder Jud Sherwood (drums) and Joe Gargiulo (bass) provide a grounding rhythm section. But the unbridled joy is shared by the whole group.
“You just can’t help but be in a great mood with these guys,” Gargiulo said.
As Dalgarn recounted the initial concept for the band, he recalled another program that existed at the time.
“They had this thing at the time called Community Access,” he said. “You had to go at least once a week, take somebody (with a disability) to a movie, you know, for two hours, you see the movie there? And they’re getting exposed, right? I’m thinking — which is how this whole thing started — right, OK, two hours.”
Two hours.
After 20 years, these are the two most enjoyable, spirit-healing hours in Bellingham.
Performer spotlight: Naaman Hinton
Naaman Hinton’s eyes soften when he considers the beginning of his physical decline.
One would understand if he was recalling opportunities missed and dreams forestalled, but that’s not what Hinton’s thoughtful expression is about. Instead, he is remembering the unwavering support from his family, all the friends who rallied to his side, and the car washes that raised much-needed cash at the beginning of his new life. He is counting his blessings and seeking daily ways of paying it all forward. Instead of viewing his diagnosis as an end, he considers it the beginning of an unreservedly purposeful life.
Hinton, 42, grew up in the South Sound near Tacoma. He was a star basketball, football and soccer player at Steilacoom High School. “Sports was my life,” he said. “I played sports year-round.”
After graduation, he remained in the area and fine-tuned his natural people skills hosting in restaurants — being the first face customers encountered.
Four years later, the double-vision started. The diagnosis — a ping-pong-sized brain tumor (thankfully benign) and Multiple Sclerosis — followed. Then, the groundswell of support, the car washes and a new passion in his life: volunteering.
Hinton moved to Bellingham shortly after his diagnosis and started volunteering at his niece’s daycare. Eighteen years later, that niece is grown and graduated, but he is still volunteering at almost half of the Bellingham Public Schools and keeping busier than ever.
“I love it so much,” he said. “I feel like a mover and shaker … helping things to get accomplished.”
This disease causes me to write sentences,
As if I was intoxicated.
I can’t stay in between the lines, no matter how much I try,
It’s frustrating, and I hate it.
Daily difficulties happen on a regular basis,
Make many mistakes; I embrace it.
Hinton’s focus is on kindness, caring and acceptance.
“I want to be a role model,” he said. “You can see I have some difficulties … being in a chair with a disease. I don’t know what you struggle with every day. But you have struggles just like everybody else. A lot of struggles you can’t see, but with this [wheelchair], you know [that] I struggle with things.”
This impulse to bring light and joy into the world extends beyond volunteering at schools. Most Tuesdays, Hinton plays harmonica with the band Out of the Ashes. He also sits on the board of directors for the Max Higbee Center, a local nonprofit agency established to “provide community-based recreation programs for youth and adults with developmental disabilities.”
And it all traces back to that first car wash.
“The car wash helped me to see the example that I was setting,” he said. “I was so humbled that all [those people] came out for me. I didn’t know I touched people’s lives to that degree.”
It was then Hinton realized he could have a profound effect on everyone who crossed his path. But, from then on, he’d be aware and calculating.
“If I’ve been affecting people’s lives to this degree without even realizing it, from here on out, this is clear intent. I’m aiming for every individual I see — everyone.”
And what’s the best way to reach people?
“Eye contact,” he said. “I’m going to wait you out. We’re making eye contact. We’re sharing smiles.”
My bed is pushed all the way over to the left,
So, I only get up on the right side.
And, as sure as the stars light up the night sky,
This night sky is going to try to touch lives.
Hinton also reaches his target through his prolific poetry. His YouTube page (YouTube.com/@naamanhinton4893) contains a six-part series of spoken-word performances spanning much of the last decade. And while viewers witness his physical journey from cane to wheelchair to power chair over that time, they are also encouraged by his strengthening message of compassion, empathy and love.
So rare is such personal fulfillment that a lifetime can be too short a stretch to meet someone living an authentic, purposeful life. One can count themselves lucky to cross paths with any such person in their time on Earth. Fred Rogers was such a person — a genuine force of humanity, empathy, joy and humility. Sure, Mr. Rogers weathered many jokes at his expense, but he knew who he was; his humor saw the good in the remarks, with nary a bad word said about him. This description also applies to Hinton — a poet doing his best to do good and leaving smiles in his wake.
A wheelchair can be a scary thing. A foolish dichotomy exists in society between those on wheels and those on foot. While one group represents a standard, the other struggles to represent more than a cautionary warning. In the heart of one musician and poet, his wheels are merely a cheat code he uses to get closer to humanity.
Catch Out of the Ashes from 3–5 p.m. every Tuesday through the summer at the beer garden at Boundary Bay Brewery, 1107 Railroad Ave. Entry to the family-friendly concerts is free; donations are welcome. Info: bbaybrewery.com.
Western Washington University student Tom Campbell wrote this profile as part of Dean Wright’s newswriting class.
